Somebody Who Loves You
by MacD
Summary: Quinn's in love.


Somebody Who Loves You  
  
By MacD  
Note: Characters, setting, all that jazz: not mine. And bits of this are kind of inspired by the novel "Sputnik Sweetheart", by the great Japanese writer Haruki Murakami. Oh, and the title's from a Joan Armatrading song.  
  
*****  
  
When she was sixteen, Quinn fell in love for the first time in her life. A massive love, a tremendous, overpowering, dizzying love. Something she had no control over; something that just swirled into her life and picked her up and carried her off, off and away, towards some unknown destination. And, it should be noted, it really irritated her.  
She lay on her bed, kicking her legs in the air, and thought about the unfairness of it all. She'd never really been in love before. She'd had a crush on her tutor, and that had been bad enough. He was brainy and nerdy, and he didn't have a nice car, and to make things worse, he didn't like her very much. And he hadn't been that good looking. But she'd still liked him, however much she tried not to. And this time was so much worse. She rolled over and buried her head underneath a pillow.  
For a start, this person was a proper outsider. Really, genuinely unpopular. Quinn focused on this part, hoping, not for the first time, that if she thought about how unpopular the target of her love was, she might come to her senses. Not just unpopular, but seeming to revel in it. And the fashion sense, or rather, the absence of it. Yuck. It wasn't working, though, it never did, and Quinn got back to listing her problems. A major one, now: this person really hated her. With a vengeance. That, thought Quinn, was probably never a good quality in someone you loved. And then there was the fact, and here Quinn sighed and pulled the pillow tighter round her head, that she was in love with a woman. That was definitely not good. Not that she was, like, anti-gay or anything. She wasn't homeopathic, or homophobic, or whatever. She had no problem with gay people; she just didn't really want to be one. For one thing, she was really pretty certain that being a lesbian was on the Fashion Club 'don't' list. And finally, there was the biggest problem of all: Daria. For Quinn had fallen in love with her sister's best friend. She sighed again, and threw the pillow across the room. Why couldn't she have fallen in love with Joey, or Jeffy, or whatever that other one was called? They all had cars, and stuff. And they were all boys. And Daria hated them.  
She couldn't even work out how it had happened. She'd known Jane pretty much the whole time they'd been in Lawndale, in a kind of knowing her name way. She'd hardly ever talked to her. She'd never really had the opportunity, or the desire. She'd assumed that she must be a weirdo, to be a friend of Daria's - or, rather, to be the only friend of Daria's - and then there was the fact that Daria tended to be a bit possessive about the people she liked, and it would probably have really irritated her if Quinn had ever started talking to Jane. Not that Quinn didn't like irritating Daria, but there were safer ways of doing it. Oh, and then there was the fact that Jane pretty much despised her. That was a bit of a barrier to meaningful conversation.  
So, they'd never really talked. But if Quinn really thought about it, which of course she never had before, she'd probably have had to admit that in some ways she kind of admired Jane. She always seemed so self-confident, and she could always think of something clever to say. She always seemed like she could cope in any situation. Quinn supposed that that was probably why she'd ended up at the Lane's that night she was afraid to be in the house on her own, when there had been lots of other places she could have gone, what with being so popular and all. She groaned at the thought of that night, and how much she'd babbled, and how much she must have annoyed Jane.   
And then, a couple of weeks ago, she'd been sitting in the living room of her house with Stacey, watching a video. She couldn't even remember what it was, now, or why Tiffany and Sandi hadn't been there. Daria and Tom and Jane had come in, from the pizza place or somewhere. They started watching the video on their way to Daria's room, and had ended up sitting down and watching the rest of it. It had been annoying at first, because they'd all been making stupid sarcastic remarks, but the film, whatever it was, hadn't been very good anyway, so Quinn hadn't bothered trying to get them to go away. And some of the things they'd been saying, especially the jokes Jane was making, were actually pretty funny, and Quinn and Stacey had actually started giggling a bit, despite themselves. And then Quinn found that she was paying more attention to Jane's jokes than to the film, and then that she was watching Jane more than she was watching the film. Daria and Tom were pretty much just talking to each other, anyway, and so in the end Jane was just making jokes for the benefit of Quinn and Stacey, which had been kind of weird.  
And then that night, after everyone had gone off home, Quinn found herself thinking about Jane, and even laughing out loud at the thought of some of her jokes. And then she found herself thinking: 'Jane's really quite cool'. And that surprised her so much that she didn't really see her next thought sneaking up on her: 'Oh, and she's really pretty, too'. That had her worried for a bit, but in the end she managed to forget about it.  
The trouble was that she kept having thoughts like that. She'd see Daria and Jane standing next to the lockers, and instead of concentrating on ignoring them like usual, she'd find herself eavesdropping to hear what Jane was saying, or just watching her. Finally one morning she was standing in the corridor with the fashion club, half-heartedly listening to Sandi giving a speech about painting your toenails, or not painting your toenails, or something like that, when Jane and Daria came wandering along. Quinn was watching them, or rather watching Jane, as she usually did these days, and this time she wondered what Jane looked like naked. This was so interesting she thought about it for some time; and then she suddenly realised what she was thinking about. She gasped with shock.  
"Quinn? Do you have, like, something you wish to add to this discussion? I am sure we all really wish to hear your very interesting thoughts on the colour coordination of the feet, but I wasn't finished talking."  
"Oh no, Sandi, I was just so, um, interested in what you were saying I was just, um, gasping in agreement. You're so right. But now I have to go. I have, ah, something I need to do. Right now. Bye."  
She could Sandi making some kind of nasty remark behind her as she dashed to the bathroom, but she really didn't care. She was in a state of shock. She'd been thinking about another girl ... a naked girl. Ewww. Except it hadn't really been ewww. It had been nice - so nice, in fact, that she was doing it again, right now. She groaned and started to bang her head, gently, against the inside of the cubicle door, and didn't stop until it was time to go to maths class.  
After that she had sort of had to admit to herself that she had 'feelings' for Jane. That had been a few days ago, and now she was pretty certain that it wasn't just 'feelings', it was love. She just couldn't stop thinking about her. Every morning she woke up happy at the thought of seeing her at school. It was completely pathetic, and she hated it. She was turning into one of those weirdo stalker people or something, and khaki clothing and night vision goggles were definitely out this season. And it was getting harder and harder to disguise. Whenever Daria mentioned Jane, she had to force herself not to appear too interested. And then she started to worry in case she was looking suspiciously uninterested. At least she was hiding it better than Daria had hidden her crush on Jane's brother, but she really didn't know how long she could keep it up. She had to get some advice. The problem was, she had no idea where to get it from. Not her parents, because she had no idea how they would react. Well, her dad would probably just get confused, but she had no idea how her mom would react. And not Daria, because she had a pretty good idea how she would react, and it really wouldn't be fun. Not the Fashion Club. Sandi would just use it against her, and Tiffany wouldn't understand what she was talking about, and Stacey - well, Stacey would probably be supportive, as best she could, but Quinn doubted that she would be able to offer much help. She sighed again, and went downstairs.  
Daria was lying on the sofa and watching TV. It was that horrible programme she loved. They seemed to be talking about people who married their furniture, or something. Quinn cleared her throat, loudly, and Daria turned around.  
"Sounds like a nasty cold you've got there. Probably really bad for your complexion."  
"Daria, you know I just wanted your attention. And my complexion is perfect."  
"Well, now you've got my attention. For at least, ooh, three seconds ... two ... one. Bye." She turned back to the TV.  
"Daria. Daria! I want to ask you something. Please?"  
Daria sighed loudly. "Let me guess. You were reading the back of the cereal box and you found some words you don't know? Or maybe boots are in fashion now, but you've realised you don't know how to tie laces?"  
Quinn fought back the urge to throw something at her. Need help, she thought, be nice. "Ha ha, very funny, Daria. I wanted to ask you who you ask for advice? Like, when you can't ask mom and dad, or Jane?" Even saying that name made her feel funny, she noticed uncomfortably. She really had to get this sorted out.  
Daria smirked evily. "If you're pregnant, I know some guys who'll give you a good price for the baby. Well, bits of the baby, anyway ..."  
"Eww. Come on, Daria. There must be someone."  
Daria thought about it. She was tempted to tease Quinn some more, since she was clearly desperate, but Tom was coming by quite soon, and she wanted to get ready for him. Not that she made herself up for him, or anything, because she wasn't like that. That would be shallow. No, she just liked to spend half an hour or so, you know, making sure she didn't look any different from normal. And Quinn hadn't been too bad, recently, and giving her Aunt Amy's number would at least make it Amy's responsibility. She shrugged. "When I wanted advice about getting contacts, I phoned Aunt Amy, and she was pretty helpful. Her number's on the board in the kitchen."   
Quinn got the number and went upstairs to phone. She'd never really talked to Aunt Amy. She was, in fact, a bit scared of her. She was kind of like an older, more self-assured version of Daria, thought Quinn. But she needed to talk to someone, and at least Amy probably wouldn't tell anyone. She rang the number.  
"Hello?"  
"Aunt Amy? This is Quinn. Um, your niece."  
"Yes, Quinn. I sort of worked that out from your calling me Aunt Amy. And I don't actually know many people called Quinn." But she didn't sound too unfriendly.  
"Um, sorry to bother you, but I was sort of wanting to ask you about something. Sort of for some advice, really."  
"Oh. Maybe you should ask your mother, or Daria, or ... no, I'm being stupid. Since we've hardly ever talked, I assume you're calling me because you don't think you can talk to anyone else?"  
"Uh, yeah. Do you mind? Oh, I suppose I should have asked you how you are and stuff before I asked for advice. Sorry."  
Amy laughed. "That's alright, Quinn. At least you're honest, and no, I don't mind. I don't know how much use I'll be to you, but I'll give it my best shot. What's bothering you?"  
Quinn took a deep breath. "I think I'm gay. See, there's this girl, and ..." Her voice trailed off.   
It sounded like Amy was taking a deep breath, too. "O-kay. That's quite a biggie. Sorry to be so blunt, but have you actually, ah, done anything? With her? Just so I know what kind of thing we're talking about."  
Quinn could feel herself blushing. "No. In fact, I don't think she's gay, and she certainly doesn't know that I, erm, like her. That's sort of the problem."  
"Okay." Amy sounded kind of relieved. "Look Quinn, I don't really know you very well, and most of what I do know about you comes from Daria, so it may be kind of distorted, but let me have a guess about this, and tell me if I'm wrong, okay? There's this girl at school, probably older than you?"  
"Yeah."  
"Right. And she's really pretty, and really fashionable, and everyone likes her? And you really admire her, and think that she's great? Everyone gets crushes like that sometimes ..."  
"Erm, no. I mean, I know what you're saying, but it's not really like that. Ja ... She's not very pretty. Well, she is really, really pretty, she's got really nice eyes, and great hair, even if the style is sooo 1994, and ... " She tried to remember what she was meaning to say. "Oh, but she's not really conventionally pretty, I suppose. And she wears really awful clothes. Like, really dreadful. And her makeup is just, like ..." Amy coughed discreetly, and Quinn tried to focus. "And she's not very popular. I think she's only really got one friend. And her family are like, really weird."  
"Oh."  
"See, this is why I'm worried. Because I was thinking, if I was going to have, like, a crush, it wouldn't be on Ja ... on this girl. It would be on someone, you know, more like me. You know?"  
"Yes, I think I do. Quinn, what kind of feelings do you have for this girl? How do you feel when you see her?"  
Quinn thought about it. "It's strange. I think how nice she looks, and about her eyes and stuff. And when I try to think about how awful her clothes are, which I know they are, I sort of can't, because they're hers, you know? And then if I see her smiling I kind of feel happy, which is stupid, because half of the time she's smiling because Daria's being nasty about me and the Fashion Club."  
"Oh. I sense that this is where things get yet more complex. She's a friend of your sister's?"  
"Uh, yeah. She's, like, her best friend. Well, her only friend, really."  
"And since, as I remember, you and Daria don't get on well, I take it that there's a certain degree of spillover animosity between you and her friend?"  
"Well, she hates me, if that's what you mean."  
Amy laughed, but she sounded sort of sad. "Well, Quinn, you've got a bit of a problem. To be honest, I kind of thought at first that this was just some kind of crush thing, since Daria has tended to portray you as a bit, well ..."  
"Shallow? Immature?"  
Amy laughed again. "Something like that. Anyway, you've sort of convinced me that it's more than that. Sadly that just makes things more difficult. And I don't think I can offer you any answers. Doing anything about the way you feel obviously has the potential to severely disrupt your life, especially if it's not very likely that whoever it is is going to feel the same way about you. So I suppose from that point of view you should just let it go, try to ignore it. Except that sounds like it might be pretty difficult. If you were older, I'd probably just tell you to go out and get laid, but that, um, would clearly be completely irresponsible. So you should probably forget that I even said it. I don't know what else I can say, though."  
"That's alright. I suppose I couldn't really expect you to just know what I should do. And I think it's been helpful just being able to tell someone about it. Thanks for being so nice."  
"No problem, Quinn. I'm just sorry I couldn't be more useful. Listen, phone me if you want to talk again, alright? And the best of luck, whatever you decide to do. How's the rest of the family? Parents in the asylum yet?"  
They talked about other stuff for a while, and then hung up. Quinn felt better than she had for a while, though she still had absolutely no idea what to do.  
  
*****  
  
Quinn had only just gone upstairs when Daria had a change of heart, suddenly feeling guilty for foisting Quinn and whatever stupid problem she had onto her favorite relative. Amy would probably never speak to her again if she had to deal with some fashion crisis of Quinn's. She went upstairs, hoping to catch Quinn before she started to phone. She put her head against her sister's door to see if she was in time, and sighed when she heard Quinn's voice.  
" ... should have asked you how you are and stuff before I asked for advice. Sorry." A pause. Daria grimaced. Amy must be hating this. "I think I'm gay. See, there's this girl, and ...".   
The doorbell rang, but it took Daria a moment to register. She went downstairs, still in some shock. It was Tom.  
"Hey, I managed to sneak away from the neighbour's garden party earlier than I'd expected. Which is good, because it was pretty much hell on earth. Though possibly with more bits of cheese on little sticks than you'd expect to get in hell. Are you alright? You look sort of weirded out."  
"I'm fine. Lets go somewhere. Somewhere that's not here."  
"Uh, okay. We can go for a drive, if you want. The car seems to be pretty much capable of movement today, so I suppose we should seize the opportunity while we can. Alright?"  
"Yeah, fine. Let's go. Now."  
They drove for a while, and parked in what was supposedly a scenic spot. Tom looked at Daria, but she was staring blankly out of the window, just like she had been since they left the house.  
"I know the overflowing rubbish bins and the puddles of spilt petrol are entrancing in their beauty and splendour, but are you alright? You've seemed kind of distant tonight. You didn't even laugh when I told you about Elsie threatening to gut the Senator's wife at the party this afternoon."  
Daria shrugged, but then turned towards him. "Ahh, it's nothing really. And I don't really know if I should tell you, anyway. But ..."  
"But?"  
"I overheard Quinn telling our Aunt Amy on the phone that she thinks she's gay."  
"Oh. Quinn thinks Quinn's gay, rather than that she thinks your Aunt Amy's gay?"  
"Yeah."  
"Oh." Silence. "What do you think?"  
"Quinn gay? No. I mean, that's got to be on the fashion club 'don't' list. It's probably just a stupid crush. Or she saw some programme about how all the top fashion models are lesbians this week, or something. Yeah, it's nothing. I'm sorry I let it bother me." She paused, and then sounded more normal. "It was even distracting me from admiring the natural glory of that old diaper lying so majestically on the picnic table. This is such a lovely spot you've chosen."  
Tom smiled, and that was that.  
  
*****  
  
A couple of days later, though, he turned up to the Morgendorffer's about an hour before he was meant to be meeting Daria. Helen was at work, and Jake had spent the last couple of days in the shed out back, making things out of wood, so Quinn answered.  
"Oh, hi Tom. Daria's at Jane's, I think. Is she late or are you early?"  
"I'm early."  
"Oh. Well, you should probably head round to Jane's, then. Unless it's still awkward between the three of you, which I can really see it being, what with you and Daria betraying Jane and all ... "  
Tom raised a hand, cutting her off. He wanted to get on with this before he regretted it even more than he already was. "Actually, Quinn, I was kind of hoping I could talk to you."  
"Oh." She gestured for him to come in. "Uh, is this going to be you asking me why Daria's so weird, or what she's really like, or something? Because I really don't know the answer. I've always been scared to find out, actually."  
"Uh, no. It's kind of awkward, though. Um, Quinn, Daria sort of mentioned to me that she'd heard you saying that you thought you might be, um, gay?"  
He'd been expecting denial, possibly for her to scream at him, but instead she went very pale, and her voice was very quiet. "Oh, God. She was eavesdropping?" He started to try and answer this, to say something about Daria just happening to pass by her room, or something, but she just shrugged. "And she's sent you to interrogate me?"  
"Oh. No, not at all. She was a bit bothered at first, but I think she decided you were too shallow to be gay, or something. She thinks you've just got a crush on someone, and it's just a phase."  
"So why are you here?"  
He looked at her. "Well, for a start, it's not just a crush, is it?" She looked at the floor, and gave a little shake of her head. He nodded. "I know we've never really got on, or even communicated, but I thought you might like some advice."  
"You want to give me some advice?" She frowned. "You're not a religious loony, are you? You're not going to try and send me to a camp, or something?"  
He laughed. "No. It's more of a personal experience thing." Her eyes widened. "Now, this has nothing to do with me and Daria, okay? Daria's great, and I'm really happy with her. But before I went out with her, I had a couple of other girlfriends. And I also had a boyfriend, about a year ago. We didn't go out for long, but it was, well, it was great while it lasted."  
"Oh."  
"I don't know if what you're going through is anything like my experience. I suppose it's not very useful to you, but I just wanted you to know, you know, it happens to other people too."  
"Oh. Thank you."  
"The main thing I wanted to say, I think, is that it doesn't matter. Well, it does. It can make things hard with your friends, and family, and all that. But between you and whoever it is, if you've got real feelings for them, then it doesn't matter what sex they are."  
Quinn nodded. "But what if they don't have feelings for you?"  
Tom smiled, but his eyes looked sad. "That's always the most difficult thing." He looked at his watch. "I'm going to walk along towards Jane's and see if I meet Daria on her way back, okay? But if you ever need to talk ..."  
Quinn nodded. "Thanks. This was really nice of you." He shrugged, and smiled, and left. Quinn thought about what he'd said for a while, and then she went upstairs and got ready. She made sure her make-up was perfect, and did her hair, and tried on at least four sets of clothes before she could make up her mind. And then she set off for Jane's. Tom's car was gone from outside, so she hoped he'd met Daria and they'd gone for a drive or something.  
  
*****  
  
Trent answered the door. He stared at her for a while, expressionless, and then clearly remembered who she was. "Hey ... Daria's sister. Are you looking for Daria? Because she's not here. I think she's gone somewhere ... else, or something."  
Quinn sighed with relief. "Oh. Actually, I was sort of wanting to speak to Jane. Is she in?" A long pause. "Trent? Is Jane in?"  
"Yeah, yeah she is. She's painting."  
"Can I see her?"   
Another long pause. "Well, Daria's sister, I don't know. She doesn't like to be disturbed when she's painting. And she doesn't really like you very much. You know, because you're kind of annoying."  
Despite herself, Quinn was impressed by the way Trent seemed so amiable when he said that; like it was a fact of life, something neither of them could control, and that they just had to accept. It still wasn't very nice, though. "Please, Trent? It's important."  
He pondered for a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay, then." He let her in, and pointed up to Jane's room. She walked slowly up the stairs, and paused at the top, out of Trent's sight. She took a deep breath. And then she took another deep breath. And then she knocked on Jane's door.  
"Yo."  
She went in. The room looked much like she remembered. A bit messy, loads of art stuff scattered around. Jane was standing behind an easel, looking at her. It wasn't a very welcoming look.  
"Quinn?"  
"Uh, hi." She could feel herself blushing again. And now that she was here, she had absolutely no idea what to say.  
"Hi." A pause. "Um, Quinn? Why are you in my room? Indeed, why are you in my house? If you're looking for Daria, she went off to meet Tom a while back."  
"Yeah. I was wanting to speak to you, actually."  
"Oh. Okay." Another pause. "Well, are you going to speak? Or just stare at me?"  
Quinn wanted to slap herself. Here she was, this was it, and half of her mind was just panicking uselessly, while the other half was just thinking about how pretty Jane looked. Neither was being much help. "Um, could I sit down first?"  
Jane looked confused, but pointed at the bed, and Quinn sat down. On Jane's bed, she thought. where she sleeps. And then tried to stop herself thinking that, since it really wasn't helping. Right. Get this over with. "Jane? There's something I want to say to you. And, um, it's going to sound really stupid, and it'll probably kind of ick you, and you'll hate me even more than you do now, and ..." She stopped, and took a deep breath, and started again, staring at the ground. She really didn't want to see what Jane was making of this. "I, I'm in love with you." She heard Jane start to say something, but she just carried on speaking. "It's not a joke, or whatever you're thinking. And it's not just a crush like everyone seems to think. I just, it's like I spend all my time thinking about you, and you're so pretty, and ..." She stopped, and found that she had started to cry. Jane was looking at her. She didn't look angry, just a bit startled, and confused.  
"But, Quinn, I'm straight. And, even if I wasn't, you really wouldn't be my type. Um, no offense, but ..."  
Quinn interrupted her. "But you hate me. I know. And I know you're straight. I'm not stupid, you know. I know there's no way anything could ever happen. It's just, like, I had to say something. I felt like I was going to burst."  
"Oh. Do you feel better now?"  
"No." And now she was crying really heavily. She hadn't cried like this since she was little. She could feel her makeup running, and knew she had snot on her face, and that she must look disgusting, and she just couldn't stop.  
Jane just stood there. She had no idea what to do. She said "Quinn. Quinn? I don't hate you, you know?", but the other girl didn't seem to hear her. She picked up some paper tissues that she used for paint spills, and walked over and sat on the bed, and waited till Quinn seemed to be calming a little, and then handed them to her. Quinn said thanks, in a choked-up voice, and wiped her face, and then she just sat there, hunched over. She was still crying a little, and she looked terrible, and very young. Without really thinking, Jane found herself putting an arm round her, cradling her. Quinn stiffened at the touch, but after a while she relaxed into it, and leant herself into Jane, still crying. They sat like that for a long time, and after a while Jane realised that Quinn had fallen asleep. She must have been exhausted, she thought. She reached out with her free arm and turned on the TV, with the volume down very low, and then she sat and held Quinn until she woke up.   
  
  



End file.
